


Plot Points

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Series: Daughter of Gotham [10]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Ashlea go out, and while Black Canary cleans up, they learn a little about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plot Points

Lunch led to a proper work tour, with Ashlea getting to see Oliver did actually chafe at the CEO part of his job, despite how he handled people. When they got down to R&D, she saw him relax some, even claiming a couple of the ideas in there as his concepts.

"I'm too hands-on, barely passed my classes in college, to really be the developer," Ollie told her. "But I get an idea, I sketch it out, and take it down to the brains. They make it work."

Ashlea, well-aware of the Green Arrow's impressive arsenal of trick arrows, took that all in with a grain of salt. It made sense for him to downplay it, but Oliver Queen could be nothing but a genius in miniaturization, given those arrow-heads.

* * *

"So you fed me lunch and dinner that first trip to Gotham," Oliver was saying as they left the building that afternoon. "I'm no cook, I don't have a butler in my hip pocket, but I do like food and know this little Italian place that you'll love."

Ashlea tipped her head to one side, regarding him evenly before she slowly wet her lips with her tongue… and Oliver's eyes fixed on the motion. She was certain of where they stood, both as business partners and as friends, so that suited her completely.

"I think I'd love to share my evening with you, Oliver," she purred at him, just to watch the dilation of his eyes, and know he was attracted to her in ways that left them both hungry for more than food.

"Well, I'll just have to be certain the menu is completely to your tastes," he promised her.

* * *

Oliver could feel every muscle bunching up at the distinctive sound of automatic gunfire linked to the high-pitched buzz of an Asian-style motorcycle. He was moving, unthinking of consequences, to get Ashlea back away from the street and into the dubious shelter of the restaurant's entryway.

His reflexes, the well-trained strength of his upper arms, all met the oddest resistance until he realized Ashlea herself was reacting and trying to get him out of harm's way on pure instinct. With no others in open sight on the street, they each had tried to save the other on such a gut-level reaction time that Ollie couldn't help but be curious.

Why was Ashlea at that level of readiness? How did she manage to be that fit, that alert?

Was she like him? Was she a vigilante too? But Gotham only had one notable Crusader…

Ollie pushed the rapid-fire conjecture down. "You need to cover your ears!" he warned, before suiting action to words himself. They stayed down, the gunman speeding around the corner on his bike, and then Star City's other vigilante made herself known. The street was the perfect kind of mostly empty, Oliver had guessed, because she did just what he thought she would, hitting the back end of the bike with a wave of pure sonic energy even as she sped along on a far bigger American-style motorcycle.

Damn her instincts, Ashlea thought, even as she covered her ears and kept her eyes out towards -- 

\-- aah. That was what Oliver had been warning her of, the sonic attack (sonic scream?) on the motorcycle (not, she noticed, it's rider). It was almost too high to be heard (or too low), but that would definitely have been unpleasant without protecting her ears. The effect was... impressive, as the bike swerved wildly and then fell. The rider had managed to jump free, tumbling down the pavement in a painful-looking roll, and Ashlea disregarded him as soon as she was sure that he was still moving, watching the other woman instead -- and wondering exactly how much she'd given away in those moments of silent struggle as she and Ollie had tried to protect each other. 

No surprise that he had, she knew she was the surprising one, and she looked for a moment at Ollie, trying to see what was on his face. Nothing but interest in what was happening on the street, as far as she could tell -- which was surprising, given his general lack of anything resembling a 'poker face'. 

She knew that costume. She _knew_ that costume! It had been part of Gotham's history for a long time, but the woman on the bike looked so young.

"That's the Black Canary," Ollie said near her ears, keeping her close to the building now that he'd stopped covering his own. "She's one tough doll!" he added as the small woman in fishnets and leather advanced on the perp, totally controlling the fight with judo and karate both. The admiration in Ollie's voice was clear, and easy to understand as Black Canary got the gun away, rendered the man unconscious, and then dragged him to a lamp post where she secured him with line of some kind.

Oliver, despite focusing on the fight, was also noticing all the ways Ashlea was in contact with him, reeling from the idea that maybe she'd understand him… if he could ever trust her that far, which meant figuring out who she was. Gotham maybe had another vigilante, flying lower on the radar?

"She certainly is," Ashlea agreed, careful to keep her voice out of the Bat's register, almost certain that somewhere in that judo and karate she'd seen a Wildcat-special uppercut. "Effective, too." 

"She really is," Ollie said, pride and admiration in his voice. "Star City sleeps a lot safer because of her." He moved to give her more space, now that threat seemed to be dealt with. The vigilante in question was moving toward the gunman's bike to get it out of the way… and a brave pair of guys from the other side of the street ran out to lend her a hand, trying to chat her up as they did.

Ashlea hid her amusement in the back of her hand, straightening up to watch as Black Canary and the boys -- well, young men, she supposed -- moved the bike out of the traffic path. That, at least, was one problem her 'other side' didn't have. Occasionally she had trouble with women (one with a whip in particular), but she didn't have to deal with flirtation when she was in the suit. The Canary handled it easily, though, all cheerful smiles and shakes of her head before she trotted back to her own motorcycle and headed off into a different part of the night. 

"Well, I didn't mean to give you a show to go with dinner, but hey… we came out of it safe enough," Ollie said, offering her his arm. "The question is, my beautiful business partner, if I am taking you back to your hotel… or to my place?" He was shamelessly opening the door to possible rejection, but his curiosity was too mingled with his desires. Who was this woman when she wasn't in her business suits?

"So we did, and it certainly was educational," Ashlea said, taking his offered arm, before that question made her smile. They'd been flirting for months, it was about time they did something about it... especially now that she'd rather given herself away. "...hm. Well. Why not your place, Ollie?" 

"My pleasure, Ash," he purred, doing the mental equivalent of a hurrah at her answer.

* * *

"My robe looks better on you," Ollie said, many hours later, as Ashlea was toweling her hair dry. "I'm just curious about one thing after… well, you and tonight." His face was still open, no shadows, and she'd all but broken him down to his core and brought him back with their night so far.

His fingers had lingered on the scars she had, faint as they were through her careful efforts to minimize them. He'd never said anything, but Ash had known he was thinking them over, when he wasn't being putty in her hands.

She leaned back against the vanity, tipping her head to the side a little, "And what might that be?" 

She was almost certain she knew, but she wanted to hear how he'd ask it. 

"How do you do the voice thing? Because … you can't be anyone but him, and I think I just got proof positive that you're not a him at all." Ollie then smacked his forehead, holding out the other hand to her. "No, no, damn, wrong way to word that. Shit, I mean, if you identify as 'him' that's cool; I'm all for respecting people as they are."

That was far more sensitivity -- though no less genuine or heartfelt -- than she would have expected from him, and she blinked for a moment and reached out to take his hand, making a soft, soothing noise. "Shh, I'm not offended," she said first., "but it's probably a good thing you said that to me, and not someone transgendered. When I started thinking about this, I knew it'd be much harder, and full of annoyances, if my costumed persona was female. So I went for male instead, but it was practical, not because I... consider myself male, or anything." 

Then she smiled, slow and a little wicked, and said in Batman's rough gravel, "As to the voice, it's just a matter of practice." 

Ollie shivered all over to hear that voice like that. He could see her, still had all the pleasant soreness that came with a thorough loving… and that voice hit on all sorts of different sensual responses. "Wow." He tried to shake it off, but he found himself gravitating toward her and settling close enough to touch again. "Pretty damn certain I could never, ever have managed to pull it off in the other direction," he said, laughing weakly.

She pulled him in against her chest, petting down the line of his spine for a moment, intrigued by his shivering response, the way he'd almost instinctively moved closer to her. That thought, though -- she laughed, too, her hand sliding up from his back to brush out over his shoulders. "With these shoulders? And your hips? No, I don't think you could have. Though it might've been interesting to watch you try... but then again, you'd have trouble with the bow, wouldn't you?" 

Ollie considered, even as he moved into those touches. "Sometimes I don't know how the women do manage it," he admitted. "There's one I knew for a little while, decent shot, but I heard her cuss once or twice because she tried to snap a shot off on the fly and … got fouled."

Oh, that sounded unpleasant! She winced for a moment, tugging him closer. 

"Despite the help the suit gives me, that _is_ one of the reasons I work mostly bare-handed," Ashlea agreed, her hand stroking along his side again, fingers of her other hand tangling lightly in the damp hair at the back of his neck. He was so wonderfully responsive... 

"Nnngg," was his vocal reaction to that grasp, as he tipped his head in such a way as to bare his throat to her. "Ash… I don't know why you get to me this hard, but please don't stop," he whispered.

She leaned down enough to nip his so-nicely bared throat, just careful enough with her teeth not to leave a mark (or, at least, it wouldn't be a mark by morning), as she wrapped her arm low around his waist, pulling him in tighter, her other hand tightening a little more in his hair. "I don't plan to stop," she told him, against his skin. 

She wouldn't promise, she couldn't do that, but she could tell him that much. 

"It's what we have, then," he answered her, as if he understood the wording far better than she'd possibly intended.


End file.
